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    The Spirit Knows
    The Spirit Knows
    The Spirit Knows
    Ebook30 pages28 minutes

    The Spirit Knows

    By Janice Daugharty

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    About this ebook

    Orlando has a restraining order against her ex-husband, Froman, but that doesn't stop him from kidnapping and killing her. Then there is the Colonel, who has briefly met Orlando, another time, another place, seemingly disconnected, until Froman forms the link. Only the spirit could have known about the two women's shared death day.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJanice Daugharty
    Release dateJun 21, 2010
    ISBN9781452393018
    The Spirit Knows
    Author

    Janice Daugharty

    Janice Daugharty is Artist-in-Residence at Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College, in Tifton, Georgia. She is the author of one story collection and five novels: Dark of the Moon, Necessary Lies, Pawpaw Patch, Earl in the Yellow Shirt, and Whistle.

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      Book preview

      The Spirit Knows - Janice Daugharty

      The Spirit Knows

      by Janice Daugharty

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2010 by Janice Daugharty

      Even working in microcosm, Janice Daugharty is a writer who thinks big. New York Times Book Review

      The Colonel had just come into the house she kept for the young Carpenter couple (always off to work and if they weren’t working, they were loafing, burning up the highways in that little foreign car of the wife’s). Keeping to her notion of order—not habit, not ritual, which are entirely of a different mindset—she ran a good hot sink full of water: soap in first to suds properly under the guttering of the faucet; glasses and cups placed carefully in soak; plates on the counter stacked alongside, then pots left over from supper (you guessed it, the wife never did dishes at night). In the middle of the kitchen, she wiped the round oak table, circular and then with the grain. She scoured the white stove, to the left of the sink, until it gleamed and showed not a trace of having ever been used.

      Now she could look back over what was done and not dwell on the undone while she began washing and rinsing and draining the glassware, each squeaky clean and sparkling as she set the stack of plates into the bubbling suds.

      It was at this point that she looked up and out the window, white trim with eight polished panes, and spied a big, black fellow stumbling like a blind man from the west woods and across the plowed field. The leaves of the bay trees were blowing, showing undersides of white selvedge. Chasing after the man was a perfectly formed dust devil, a twister head-high and spinning dirt to dust, erasing his tracks. He stopped and the dust devil went on, whirling straight through him, looked like, then passing from view of The Colonel in the window. The man seemed to follow, chasing after the dust devil along the fence line to the front of the house. From there she could only imagine that he was either heading for the highway or climbing over the fence into the yard, that he was up to no good. Next thing she knew, on the washing of the second plate, he came slinking

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